


The Seven Seas of Love

by SherlockedCumbercookie



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Plug, Boats and Ships, Brainwashing, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Petplay, Pirate John Watson, Pirate!lock, Pirates, Poor Sherlock, Punishment, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Violence, Smut, Spanking, Stockholm Syndrome, Virgin Sherlock Holmes, Whipping, captive Sherlock, dark!john, slavelock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:00:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26287603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockedCumbercookie/pseuds/SherlockedCumbercookie
Summary: Sherlock, a young Englishman, is kidnapped by pirates and made into the sex slave of fearsome pirate captain, John Watson.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 12
Kudos: 71





	1. Captured

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a prompt I found somewhere and can't remember where

The night their ship had been attacked was still hazy in Sherlock’s mind. He and his family had been traveling to Ireland to inspect some land his father had just purchased. It was an unusual move, as Sherlock’s father usually just sent servants in his stead, but Sherlock had suspected that his father had an ulterior motive to bring them. There were various other English landowners in the same region, and Sherlock had had the feeling that his father was planning a marriage between the daughter of a wealthy landowner and himself.

If that was the plan, then it was never fulfilled. Sherlock remembered that it had been foggy that night, even the ship's bright lanterns had done little to break through the thickness. That hadn’t stopped Sherlock from standing at the very front of the ship though. He loved being on the sea, smelling the salt water, feeling the breeze flow through his dark curls. He always felt alive when he was on a ship.

It must have been nearing midnight when the fog finally started to lift, and Sherlock was still standing at the bow, gazing ahead. That was how he spotted the lights first. Lanterns on another ship. Another ship that was far too close to comfort. Sherlock barely had time to turn around and shout out that they were under attack before the first of the pirates landed on the ship. Everything happened in a blur after that, Sherlock remembered instant panic, a lot of shouting and a few gunshots as he tried to run below deck, but before he could get there, he tripped over the body of a fallen crew mate, and everything went black.

When Sherlock came around again, he knew instantly that he wasn’t on the water anymore, despite his throbbing head. He reached up to gently touch the sore spot, but noticed that he wasn’t able to move just one hand. That’s when he noticed the chains. They were around his wrists, ankles and neck, and as everything came into more focus, he realized that he was also connected to other people. Looking around, Sherlock recognized a couple of faces as other passengers that were on the ship with him. As he slowly gathered his wits again, Sherlock began to look around the room he was in. He appeared to be in a large tavern, filled with people of the unfavorable sort. Pirates. Sherlock and the other captives lined one of the walls and were mostly ignored, except for the odd glance, and every now and then one of the captives was taken away.

The same pattern continued for some time. Sherlock was unsure of how long he’d been here, days weeks, it was impossible to tell, where someone would be taken away from the line. Some he never saw again, and some came back looking worse for wear. Sherlock wasn’t touched once though. Not for what he believed to be a few days though. He’d drifted into an uneasy sleep. When rough hands pulling him to his feet woke him. He opened his eyes, grimacing as a pirate smiled a toothless smile at him.

“It’s ye lucky day, boy. A mate of mine thinks ye’d make a good present for Captain Watson when he gets in, so he snapped ye up, he did. Now the Captain’s ship has been spotted, so ye need t’ get t’ the docks. Look lively, boy, or ye’ll feel me whip,” the filthy pirate growled, dragging Sherlock along. Even though it was nearly sundown, the light of the sun still hurt Sherlock’s eyes after being stuck in the dark tavern for so long. He somehow managed not to trip over any of the loose stones as he was pulled towards the dock, and halted when the other man did. It seemed they’d timed their arrival perfectly, or not so perfectly Sherlock thought, as a rather grand ship had just docked, and a man who Sherlock assumed was Captain Watson had jumped off to be greeted by a friend. Sherlock watched the two converse, before this friend turned and pointed at him. The two men laughed some more, before Captain Watson said something and began to approach him.

“So, is this the boy, Sully?” Captain Watson asked, glaring at Sherlock with glittering, eager eyes. “ ‘e’s a bit on the wee side. All bones and odd angles…” The captain placed two filthy fingers beneath Sherlock’s chin and turned his face upwards. “I ‘ave to admit. ‘E’s a pretty one. Bet ‘e’d make a tight fuck.” The Captain tossed dirty blond hair out of his eyes and grinned maliciously down at Sherlock, who shuddered. “Take yer clothes off, boy,” the Captain ordered, licking his lips with anticipation. 

Sherlock looked fearfully up at the captain. “But sir-” 

“Now, boy,” the other pirate growled, grabbing a fistful of Sherlock’s dark curls and yanking harshly. 

Wincing in pain, Sherlock slowly pulled his ragged shirt up and over his head. Instantly, the cool air struck his bare chest and despite himself, he shivered. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Captain Watson watching him with a lustful fixation. Cheeks flaming bright red, Sherlock pulled down his trousers and finally, his pants. He let his clothes drop to the ground and wrapped his arms around his upper body. He was now naked and fully vulnerable to the whims of the filthy pirates. 

Captain Watson drank in the sight of the nude boy standing before him. The captive was extremely attractive. Despite being very thin, he was well muscled. His chest was hairless and his nipples were two perfectly dark circles. They already stood erect in the cold air. Watson’s eyes traveled down to Sherlock’s crotch, where a dusky pink penis lay nestled in a nest of raven curls. God, his arse! The boy’s pert bum was small, round and Captain Watson felt his crotch tingle at the thought of fucking that arse until it was red and raw. 

Sherlock, fully aware of the critical eyes on him, curled in on himself, trying to cover his privates. “P-please s-sir,” he chattered, the freezing wind biting into his skin. 

“Silence boy! You’ll speak only when spoken too!” Captain Watson barked. He reached out and grasped Sherlock’s cock, causing the boy to gasp out in surprise. Taking his index finger, the Captain traced Sherlock’s penis, smiling greedily. “Beautiful…. So beautiful…” To his horor, Sherlock felt his cock swell at the Captain’s touch. Mortified, he tried to cover himself with his hands but the Captain pushed his hands away. “What a good boy! Already begging for my touch!” The Captain let go of Sherlock’s cock and stepped back. “Thank ye, Sully. The boy is just what I need! ‘E’ll do good for what I need ‘im for. Put yer clothes back on, boy. We have a ship to catch.” 

Shivering in fear and embarrassment, Sherlock quickly pulled on his filthy clothes and squeezed his eyes shut as Captain Watson clapped shackles around his wrists and clipped a leash to them. He stood in miserable silence, as the Captain and Sully whispered to each other in fervent tones. He caught a few words: booty… Ireland… gold…ship... His stomach twisted. He thought of his family and wondered if they had survived the attack. In his mind’s eye, he could see their bloodied bodies strewn out on the splintered deck of the ship. Swallowing hard, he shook that thought from his mind and turned his thoughts to the present. 

Captain Watson yanked on the leash, causing Sherlock to stumble forward. “Welcome to yer new home, boy!” Captain Watson motioned to a huge, sleek ship tied to the docks nearby. “Her name is The Lucky Watson. Sailed the seven seas, she has. Not a finer ship ye’ll find!” The captain tugged Sherlock towards the gangplank, grinning like a mad man. “Oi! Sally! Light the lanterns and prepare to set sail. I’ve completed my business here.” He led Sherlock up the gangplank and onto the polished, smooth deck of The Lucky Watson. 

A tall, dark-haired woman, who would have been beautiful if it weren’t for the grime on her face and the filthy suit coat she wore, crossed the deck to greet Captain Watson. Her gaze momentarily rested on Sherlock but then focused entirely on her captain. “Aye Captain. Thought your business would last longer than a night.”  
“Aye, I thought so too but plans changed. “Where’s Archie? I need him to take care of something for me.” 

“Right ‘ere Cap.” A dark-haired sailor dressed in burlap trousers and a striped shirt that looked like a prison suit stepped forward, holding up a brightly burning lantern. He peered curiously at Sherlock’s face. “Who’s this?” 

“No asking questions, Archie. Take ‘im to my cabin. Strip ‘im and chain ‘im to the bed so ‘e won’t dare try to run away,” the Captain directed, showing the leash into Archie’s filthy hands. “Get ‘im some food and water too. ‘E’s much too thin.” 

“Aye Cap,” Archie said, gingerly taking the leash. 

The Captain rested a heavy hand on Sherlock’s thin shoulders. “We’ll meet later, princess,” he growled and strode away, laughing merrily. 

Archie led Sherlock to the Captain’s cabin, which was an extravagant affair decorated with furniture and other odds and ends stolen from various ships. There was a large, four poster bed with purple velvet curtains and a soft purple down coverlet. Beside the bed was a wash table with a pretty porcelain wash set consisting of a pitcher and a bowl. A tiger skin rug was stretched out on the floor before a fireplace. Two large windows looked out onto the sea; they could be opened and closed at will. Sherlock’s heart dropped when he saw the iron shackles bolted to the floor. He knew instantly that these were for him. 

“Alright mate, get yer clothes off,” Archie said rather stiffly. 

Sherlock had no choice but to obey. Archie was armed and would probably hurt him if he refused. Quickly, he peeled off his clothes and, per Archie’s order, knelt by the bed. Closing his eyes, he listened to the clank of metal upon metal as Archie closed the metal shackles around his wrists and ankles. The metal dug painfully into his flesh and he gritted his teeth. 

“Sorry ‘bout this mate,” Archie whispered and Sherlock was surprised at his kind tone. 

He changed a glance and saw that Archie was indeed apologetic. 

“You aren’t the first poor soul the Cap’s brought on board. But there’s something different ‘bout ye. Ye’ve got fight in yer eyes. That’s good. Ye’ll be needin’ it.” Archie glanced about the room and then leaned secretively close to Sherlock. “The Cap’s got a quick temper and ‘e’s pretty awful most of the time but he’s got a good heart beneath all that bluff and bravery. I saw the way Cap looked at you. ‘E’s never looked at someone that way before.” Archie set down a clay jug of water beside Sherlock and then awkwardly patted the prisoner’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, mate. Just stay on the Cap’s good side, k?” 

Sherlock managed a weak smile. “I-I’ll try,” he whispered and suddenly, his vision grew blurry and he realized, to his mortification, that he was crying. He lifted a shackled hand to his face and wiped away the tears. “Please, Archie… my family… I need to know that they’re okay and… and will I ever get to go home? Please tell me I will get to go home!” He hated how pitiful and weak he sounded but the terror of the past few days were taking their toll.

Archie suddenly stiffened and stood up abruptly. “No more talk, mate. Drink. Here’s some hardtack and jerky. Eat it.” Archie drew a pouch from his pocket and gave it to Sherlock. “The Cap will have my arse if ‘e finds out I’m socializing with ye.” Archie smiled a sad little smile. “Rest up and be brave.” Then, he quietly slipped from the cabin, leaving Sherlock, trussed in chains, to his thoughts. 

Picking up the sack of food, Sherlock dug inside, pulling out some moldy hardtack and hard, unsalted beef. Any other time he might have turned his nose up but he was starving and so the food was quickly devoured. He washed it all down with the jug of water, then drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. Never before had he felt so alone and so frightened in his life. He had heard many gruesome tales of what pirates did to their prisoners: keeping them as sexual slaves and torturing them to death, then dropping their bodies overboard to be eaten by sharks. Sherlock knew that Captain Watson had no intention of being kind to him. He prepared himself for a very long night.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Rape/non-con
> 
> tried to make John hot... and Sherlock a poor, scared princess :)

John’s thoughts were filled with his captive. He kept imagining the young man’s smooth, porcelain skin and his plush, cupid’s bow lips. He imagined sinking his cock into the boy’s pert, plush arse. Licking his lips eagerly, he finished tying off one of the sails and, after making sure the night watch was set, retreated belowdecks to enjoy his prize. When he entered his cabin, he found the boy, naked and chained to the bed, fast asleep, tears streaming down his pale cheeks. John’s eyes roved over the boy’s flawless body and he grinned, shrugging off his coat. Letting the coat fall to the deck, he quickly set to pulling off his shirt and trousers. His cock, half-heart, bobbed out and John enveloped it with his hand, giving it a few hard pumps. He quietly approached the boy’s sleeping form and stood above him, gazing down at his captive. 

Unable to resist, John knelt by the naked form and pinched one of the boy’s nipples between his fingers. The boy moaned in his sleep and shifted slightly but did not wake up. John, his face flushed with want, began to lick at the nipple, hardening it to a pert, red, swollen nub. He set to work on the other, licking the nipple until it perked up in arousal. “Such a pretty boy,” John breathed, running his hands down the length of the boy’s body. He stopped right above the boy’s cock and took the length in his left hand. With his right, he grabbed his own cock and stroked it vigorously. The boy’s cock was of average length, nestled in a tangle of dark curls. John decided he would shave the boy. He liked his captives clean-shaven. 

Upon the groping of his intimate parts, the boy awoke and immediately gazed at John with terror. He feebly raised his stick-thin arms. “P-Please, sir…” he muttered, his voice slurred from sleep. “Stop it… Please…” 

John continued to grope the boy’s cock. “Shhh, princess. You’re awake at last. Finally. We can play.” He let go of the boy’s penis and yanked on a fistful of dark curls. “First of all, there’s some things that need to be made clear. You will address me as “Captain” or “master”. Whichever you prefer. You are my slave now and your only purpose is to serve me and satisfy my sexual urges. I will whip and spank you if you disobey. You will not talk unless I give you permission. If you do, I will punish you. I will fuck you until you are unconscious and you are not to complain. You will always be chained up because I do not trust you enough that you would not jump off the ship if you had the chance. Meals will be given regularly. You are much too thin. Are you catching this all, boy?” John gave another cruel yank on the youth’s curls and the boy yipped in agony. 

“Yes s-I mean Captain,” he whispered through trembling lips, his blue eyes wide with fear. “But Captain-” 

John pinched one of the boy’s nipples causing the youth to grimace. “What did I just say, princess? I told you not to speak without my explicit permission. Now, to continue where I left off: You are to speak to none of my crew. You must obey the orders of my crew unless the orders threaten your safety or my safety. When I’m not fucking you, you’ll be cleaning and scrubbing until your rich boy hands are tough and blistered. Any attempt at trying to run away will result in a punishment so terrible that you don’t even want to hear about it. Understand?” 

Mutely, the boy nodded and licked his plush lips. 

“Good. Now….” John stood up and reached into the nearby dresser, pulling out a black leather collar with a silver tag. He snapped it around the boy’s neck before the youth could protest and locked it, throwing the key carelessly onto the bed. Immediately, the boy reached up white, delicate hands to his neck and began yanking on the collar. “It’s not coming off, princess,” John smirked. The boy looked up at him with utter horror and John laughed. “You are mine, princess. You are not your own person anymore. You are a slut, whose hole is just begging to be filled. You are nothing. You are nothing but a fuck hole.” John lunged forward, grasping the boy in his strong grip and pressed his lips to the boy’s lips, bruising them with crushing force. 

“S-stop! P-please!” the boy cried, trying to shove John away. John tightened his grip on the boy and sank his teeth into the youth’s lips. The metallic taste of blood flooded his taste buds and he attacked his captive’s mouth with renewed arousal and vigor. Tears started to stream down the boy’s cheeks as he fought uselessly, trying to free himself from John’s muscular arms. 

“Mmm… what a delectable mouth you have, princess,” John murmured, lewdly licking the blood away from the boy’s lips. He moved his attention to the boy’s nipples, which were erect and swollen. “I have just the thing for these,” John snickered and retrieved a small wooden chest from underneath his bed. The chest contained his sex toys, including a pair of nipple clamps. He pulled them out of the box and held them up. They were pure silver with tiny blue jewels that matched the boy’s eyes. The boy's eyes widened as he realized John’s intent. 

John licked and suckled at the boy’s nipples until they were straining and swollen, then applied the clamps. The boy, now realizing that fighting was futile, began to cry, tears and snot streaming down his cheeks. John paid him no mind. He yanked on the chain connecting the two clamps and the lad cried out in pain, causing John’s cock to jerk with interest. “Such a pretty princess,” John murmured, letting go of the chain. “Alright. On your hands and knees. Arse up.” When the boy hesitated, John struck him across the face. “Now, slut, or it’ll be worse for you.” 

Instantly, the boy went onto his hands and knees and presented his bare arse. John whistled in admiration and began caressing the pert, round, buttocks. He kneaded the flesh, enjoying the plushness of the boy’s arse. Slowly, he pried the boy’s cheeks apart to reveal the lad’s small, virgin hole. “I am surprised you are still a virgin, pretty boy,” John growled, pausing to give his ever-growing cock another few strokes. “Got any girls at home?” 

“N-No,” the boy stuttered, cheeks flaming bright red. “I-I… .I was too busy for love…” 

John licked his finger until it was wet and began to worm it into the boy’s tight, virgin hole. Instantly, the boy stiffened, his back arching and his muscles clenched around John’s finger. “Ooh, fuck… so tight, princess… just begging to be filled.” John pried another finger in, causing his captive to yelp. “Shh, shh, slut. Stay still and you will be rewarded. Try to lash out at me and I will spank you bloody.” John wriggled a third finger in and used his other hand to stroke his cock, which was leaking onto the wooden deck. He threw back his head and let out a lusty moan, the sight of the blushing, naked boy before him causing him such deep feelings of arousal. He bit his lip hard and lined his cock up with the boy’s entrance, not even bothering to retrieve lube. “This’ll hurt,” he whispered in the lad’s ear and instantly felt the thin body tense beneath him. 

************************

Sherlock gazed in mute horror at his captor’s huge cock. Captain John’s cock was huge, nestled in a bed of tangled blond curls. It was fully erect, streaked with pre-cum and dark red, the veins standing out on the swollen flesh. Sherlock wasn’t sure that John’s entire length would fit inside of him. Fresh tears sprang to Sherlock’s eyes and he began to beg and beg. “No! Please! Please don’t! Please… Please sir… Please,” he cried, unashamed to cry. He was so frightened. He knew what was coming. His pleas were answered with harsh slaps and when John’s cock breached his arsehole, he let out a cry as searing pain spread throughout his arse. “Oh fuck… please no,” he whispered desperately, curling his hands into fists, his knuckles turning white as he grasped at the floorboards. 

John pounded into him, forcing his entire length inside Sherlock’s hole. With each thrust came more pain and this was only added to when John started to nipple and bite at his neck and arse. Occasionally, John smacked Sherlock’s quivering buttocks. As John fucked Sherlock, Sherlock felt himself slowly losing his grip on reality. To his utter horror, his own cock was swelling and when the Captain’s cool fingers touched his genitals, he let out a howl, arching his back and throwing his head back. Embarrassed, he ducked his head and heard the Captain laugh cruelly. 

“ARGGHHHH!!!” the Captain let out a lusty moan and came into Sherlock’s abused hole. He pulled out the next minute and hot cum mixed with blood dribbled down Sherlock’s thighs and legs. John continued to smack Sherlock’s arse and each time the captain’s hand made contact with his reddened, burning skin, Sherlock yelped in agony. “Come for me, princess,” John growled in Sherlock’s ear, his massive hand grasping Sherlock’s erect cock. With a few pumps, Sherlock spilled out onto John’s hands. When his orgasm passed, he collapsed to the ground, crying loudly, his entire body shaking with sobs. 

He watched through blurry eyes as John pulled out a huge wooden plug from his chest and licked it until it was glistening. “Got to keep my seed in there. That’s precious stuff,” he laughed and pushed the plug into Sherlock’s abused hole. As the wood passed the ragged flesh of his entrance, Sherlock could not hold back the scream that ripped from his throat. He felt full and stuffed and in so much pain. Never before had he felt such horrible, searing pain. John tapped the end of the plug, forcing it even deeper into Sherlock’s arse, then sat back to enjoy his masterpiece. 

“Now, thank me for it, princess,” John said, giving Sherlock a smack. 

Sherlock stared up at John through tear-filled eyes and licked his lips, tasting blood. “T-Thank you… C-Captain,” he croaked out before falling unconscious. 

************************

John shook the captive’s still form and growled in frustration when the lad’s eyes did not open. “Wake up, princess,” he snapped, yanking on the nipple clamps. Not even that roused the boy. Cursing, John grasped the pitcher of water off the dresser and dumped the entire thing on the boy’s head. Instantly, the cold water shocked the youth awake and he came to, spluttering and blinking water from his eyes. John set down the pitcher and reached down to grasp the boy’s wrists. He yanked the boy to his knees. Grasping the youth’s chin, he forced open the boy’s jaw and shoved his dick into the lad’s mouth. “Suck it,” he ordered harshly, grabbing a fistful of his captive’s dark curls. “Do it.” 

The boy began to lick at John’s cock as if his life depended on it. He brought John to another shuddering climax and John, exhausted from orgasming so many times, collapsed onto the bed, pulling his slave up beside him. He put his arms around the boy’s skeletal thin body, and ran his hands through the dark curls. The boy remained stiff and still in John’s arm, sniffling quietly. “Good boy… good slut,” John whispered in the boy’s ear. “You have done well. What a good boy.” He tweaked one of the boy’s clamped nipples and snickered when the boy jolted in his grasp. “I shall look forward to more nights like this. For a virgin, you make a pretty good fuck.” 

Finally, after blowing out the candle, John drifted off to sleep, exhausted from his day’s work, his hands caressing his captive’s body. 

*********************

Sherlock waited until he was absolutely sure the Captain was asleep before wriggling out of the man’s grasp. He remained on the bed, however, fearful that any more movement would wake his sadistic tortuer. Gingerly, Sherlock pulled himself to a sitting position and gently poked at his arse. Every single touch made him wince. His arse felt as if it were on fire. His fingers came away streaked with blood and cum. Too afraid to take off the clamps or remove the plug, Sherlock slowly lowered himself back down to a lying position. Alone to his thoughts, fear, and pain, Sherlock quietly wept at the loss of his honor and his pride and his virginity. More so, he mourned the loss of his parents and his siblings. Their survival was highly unlikely. He had seen the ship set aflame. His own future seemed even worse than burning to death. He was destined to spend the rest of his days in the bed of a sadistic, brutal, captor. If he disobeyed or tried to run away, he would be hurt with such excruciating pain that he might not even survive a simple punishment. 

He turned onto his stomach and buried his head in the soft pillow, letting his tears soak the cotton fabric. He didn’t even believe in God but he was crying out to Him, calling on a childhood prayer his mother had forced him to say before bed every night. He didn’t know any other prayer and besides, God probably wasn’t likely to listen to a boy like him. “A-and if I d-die before I-I w-wake, I-I pray the L-Lord m-my soul to k-keep,” he whispered, his breath hitching with ragged sobs. He lay in silence, half-hoping God would answer him. But all was silent and Sherlock realized with a sinking heart that praying was no use. Troubled, he allowed himself to drift to sleep, knowing that he must rest and gather as much strength as he could. His dreams were filled with flames, the faces of his family, and the cruel laughter of his captor. He did not sleep well at all.


End file.
